


cause i know in the morning you'll be gone (how am i supposed to carry on?)

by ProbablyVoldemort



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Avalanches, Azgeda aren't the bad guys, Chopped: The 100 Fanfic Challenge, F/M, Forbidden Love, Mount Weather, Political Alliances, Road Trips, Sharing Body Heat, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyVoldemort/pseuds/ProbablyVoldemort
Summary: Wells liked things to make sense.Allying themselves with Azgeda when the opportunity came up made sense.  Doing whatever it took to make that alliance stick made sense.  Entering an arranged marriage with a woman he'd never met for the sake of his people made sense.The butterflies in his gut whenever he locked eyes with the Azgedan ambassador who was decidedlynothis fiancée made no sense at all.
Relationships: Echo/Wells Jaha
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: Chopped Choice: Horror





	cause i know in the morning you'll be gone (how am i supposed to carry on?)

**Author's Note:**

> It's Chopped time again folks!
> 
> And, yes, you're reading the tags of this story correctly. I went with randomly generated pairings and tropes for this fic and this is what happened! So you're welcome for that and welcome to the first ever Wells/Echo fic!
> 
> To give fair warning, though, I've never written a Wells POV fic and the version of Echo that I write doesn't tend to strictly follow canon Echo interpretation, so apologies in advance if the characterizations seem off.
> 
> THEME: Canon Divergent  
> Trope 1 (Horror): The Adjectival Man  
> Trope 2: Road Trip AU  
> Trope 3: Forbidden Relationship  
> Trope 4: Arranged Marriage
> 
> Okay so for the Canon Divergent part, most of it will be shown in the fic, but I've also decided that Ontari is a decently good person. I just thought I'd let you know going in that Wells isn't going into this fic marrying a terrible human being.
> 
> Title is from Tyler Shaw's Kiss Goodnight. Check it out,
> 
> Please enjoy :)

Wells liked things to make sense, and, growing up on the Ark, most things did. Science made sense and so did math and Earth skills. Literature classes made less sense, but what the teachers wanted from him did, so he was able to apply that and make whatever he was supposed to be finding metaphors and meaning in make sense.

The Ark made sense. Even the rules that didn’t sit well in his gut made sense. They were there to keep the human race alive. They were there to ensure that one day, their descendants would be able to get to go back down to Earth.

The first thing that really didn’t make sense in Wells’ life was when Clarke came to him a year ago, freaking out. The Ark was dying. There was a flaw in the oxygen system, and they were all going to die if it didn’t get fixed.

It didn’t make sense because the Ark wasn’t supposed to die. It was supposed to keep them alive for a few hundred more years.

That sent him down a path of questionable decisions and small revolutions and holding Clarke while her dad was floated, and ultimately led to a decision that made sense.

They were going to the ground.

The council would only sign off on sending the prisoners, those under 18. It made sense, because they were expendable. It didn’t sit well in his gut because they were _children_ , but his gut didn’t matter.

He and Clarke insisted on going, because they needed guidance. It didn’t make sense to send down a bunch of unsupervised children to a radiated planet. It _did_ make sense to send down a doctor and an Earth skills teacher with them to make sure they could survive.

They made sure there was a spot on the dropship for Bellamy, too. He’d been a year ahead of them in school, and they knew there was no way he’d let the dropship leave with his sister and not him. It only made sense to get him on it legitimately and not wait for him to throw a coup or shoot his way on. And, besides, having someone around who used to be a guard meant they’d have protection, just in case, and guard skills probably translated into hunting skills.

The mission made sense. Get to the ground. Survive. Report back. Start building a home for the rest of the Ark to follow them down.

It made sense.

Wells liked it when things made sense.

Nothing had made sense since they reached the ground.

They didn’t land on the right mountain. The right mountain range, sure, but it was at least a day’s walk away to get to Mount Weather.

The good news was that the Earth was definitely survivable. The bad news was that the people who were already here wanted to kill them.

And, to top it all off, they were definitely approaching winter. The days were getting shorter and colder, and every morning there was more and more frost. There was no way they were going to survive the snow without help.

They’d landed on the boarder between Azgeda and Trikru territory. Two clans that were at war, according to the Trikru spy that Octavia had befriended—and, if you asked anyone other than Bellamy, was also almost definitely dating. Which meant that the war now went through their camp.

In theory, they could move. They could pack up their people and find somewhere where no one was going to fight them. They could move more south, where they’d have more time to prepare for winter. They could do a lot of things.

In theory.

In reality, they were bordered on one side by Trikru, who occasionally kidnapped their people, and on the other side by Azgeda, who threw a spear through Jasper’s chest the one time they’d tried to move that direction.

So moving was out of the question. If they didn’t want the winter to kill them, they had to find help.

Lincoln had been helping them on the Trikru front, but with nothing to offer on their end of an alliance, they weren’t making much progress. Azgeda was going even worse, since they didn’t have an inside man.

Which was why it was shocking that the Azgedan prince himself had shown up that morning, along with a group of ambassadors and guards.

“Here’s the deal,” Prince Roan said, draped over his seat far more casually than he had any right to. “Azgeda has decided that we would like to make Skaikru an ally.”

“So you’ve said.” Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat. “Why now?”

Wells wasn’t about to question the possibility of an alliance, but Bellamy did have a point. They’d been on the ground for three months. Azgeda had had plenty of opportunities to approach them for an alliance.

Why now?

“Something has come up,” Roan said evasively, waving a hand in dismissal. “An alliance is now beneficial.”

Bellamy’s mouth opened again, but Wells subtly kicked him in the shin before he could continue to question the prince. They didn’t need to give them any reason to call off the alliance before it was even made.

“So,” Wells said, eyes darting from Roan to the ambassador behind him. She was standing guard by the door of the tent, one hand on the hilt of her sword. Her dark eyes met his, a challenging glint flashing in them. She was hot, in a kind of terrifying way. He refocused his attention on the prince. “What do we get out of this alliance?”

Roan leaned forward over the table, folding his hands, and the alliance meeting truly began.

Azgeda’s plan went like this:

Skaikru would be moved to a nearby Azgedan village for the time being. The first snow would, apparently, come any day now, so there wasn’t time to build their own settlement now. They’d bring Skaikru back in the spring, and help them build. While at the Azgedan village, they’d be treated like part of Azgeda and be given and taught everything they needed to survive.

In exchange, Clarke would teach the Azgedan doctors more advanced medicine. The rest of their side of the deal would come when the rest of the Ark came down.

It was a good deal for them. Way better than any Wells could have hoped for.

Way too good to not have a huge catch.

“What’s the catch?” Clarke asked, because they’d grown up together and had thought on the same wavelength since the could think. Bellamy was shifting suspiciously beside him, too.

“No catch,” Roan said, grinning too widely. “We’re just very interested in gaining you as an ally.”

“Before Trikru, you mean,” Wells guessed. That was the only reason he could think of that Azgeda would be giving them so much while receiving so little.

Roan shrugged, noncommittal. “Do we have an agreement?”

Wells glanced over at Bellamy and Clarke, raising a brow. They held a silent conversation, and then turned back to Roan.

“We’ll have to discuss it in private,” Bellamy said, because they didn’t want to seem too desperate. “But I think the chances of an agreement are good.”

Roan’s grin somehow grew. “Wonderful,” he said, clapping his hands together as he stood. “You should know before your discussion that Azgedan alliances are sealed in marriage. I and whoever you choose to be my wife will be staying with Skaikru, and whoever you choose for my sister will be living with her in the capital. Select whoever you like. Echo and I will wait outside, give you some privacy.”

And then he was gone, the ambassador’s blank face twisting slightly into a smirk as she followed him out, and Wells and his coleaders were left staring after him with their mouths open.

“I think that was the catch,” Clarke said, after they’d sat there in silence for a few minutes. “I can definitely say that marriage sealed alliances were definitely not on my radar.”

Bellamy stood up and started pacing, and Wells dragged a hand across his face.

“We can’t say no,” he pointed out. “We’re not gonna survive the winter if we don’t take this alliance.”

“We can’t force anyone to go out and marry people!” Bellamy countered, which was a fair point, but Wells had already solved that issue.

“We won’t be forcing anyone.” And apparently Clarke had already solved it too. Wells removed his hand from his face, meeting her eyes. She looked resigned, but determined. Basically what Wells was feeling.

Bellamy stopped pacing, staring at them. “What are you talking about?”

Clarke sighed. “I’ll be marrying Roan,” she said. “He said wife, and I’m not going to make one of the kids marry him. So it’ll be me. But it’ll be fine. He’s hot. He seems nice. We’ll make it work.”

Bellamy looked like he wanted to protest—hell, Wells wanted to protest. Clarke having to marry a man she’d just met didn’t sit well in his gut.

But it made sense.

“Fuck,” Bellamy said, instead of whatever protest he’d been wanting to say, seeming to have come to the same conclusion as them. He sunk down heavily into his seat, digging his hand into his hair. “So I’m gonna have to marry Roan’s sister.”

Wells rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Bellamy,” he scoffed. “You’re already married.” Bellamy opened his mouth to protest again, but Wells plowed on. “Fine. Engaged. And don’t say it doesn’t matter. Gina will kill you if she gets down here and you’re off married to some princess.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll marry her.”

Unlike Bellamy, he didn’t have any prior attachments. He’d spent the last few months only interacting with Clarke and Bellamy and a bunch of teenagers. Bellamy had Gina back on the Ark, and Clarke was basically his sister. Even before they’d left the Ark, he hadn’t had much in terms of romantic prospects.

He could marry this Azgedan princess. He should probably ask Roan for his sister’s name first, though, because he should really know the name of the woman he was going to marry.

“Fuck,” Bellamy said again. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, man,” Wells said, even though he didn’t feel completely sure. But it was the only thing that made sense. “I can do this.”

They sat there a few minutes, letting the whole thing sink in.

“We’re gonna survive,” Clarke said, breaking the silence. Wells looked at her, and she was nodding, steeling herself. “Everyone’s gonna survive.”

Wells nodded, too. “Right,” he agreed. “We should let Roan know we’re in.”

It was a whirlwind after that. They agreed to Roan’s terms, and told their people what was happening.

And then they started packing. Bellamy and the others would head to the Azgedan village in a few days with some of the ambassadors and guards. Wells and Clarke, though, were heading back to the Azgedan capital with Roan and the rest of the ambassadors and guards. Royal marriages and alliance marriages had rules and traditions, apparently, and it wasn’t like Wells could marry someone who wasn’t even here.

(Her name was Ontari. That was something he learned.)

So Wells was packing his own things. Not that he had many, but they’d all be going to the capital with him. Clarke only had to pack the essentials, as the rest could be sent with their people to the Azgedan village, where she and Roan would be joining their people once they were married.

But Wells would be staying in the capital with his wife, who would one day be queen.

He didn’t know what that would make him. King? Prince? Something else?

It didn’t matter, though, did it?

He stared down at his bag. It was sad, really, that his entire life fit into a backpack.

“You ready?” Clarke asked, from her side of their tent. He turned to her and nodded.

There were hugs. Promises to various kids that they could come visit him in the capital. Promises to others that he’d come visit them. Some kids cried, and he pretended he couldn’t see.

His hug with Bellamy lasted the longest. Bellamy would be fine. The kids would be fine. They were in good hands. He’d take care of them.

He stood off to the side while Clarke and Bellamy hugged, just as long and just as tight.

The Azgedans had brought horses, which made the trek faster. Or, rather, it would have if either Wells or Clarke had been able to ride a horse. After some deliberation, it was decided that there wasn’t enough time to teach them to ride, so the extra horses that had been brought for them would be left to help carry Skaikru’s things to the village. Clarke would ride on the back of her fiancé’s horse, and Wells on the back on one of the ambassadors. The scary hot one from the tent, it turned out.

Being on a horse was weird. It didn’t feel right, and Wells was pretty sure either his legs were going to fall off of him, or he was entirely going to fall off of the horse, neither of which would be fun.

And then they left. Less than three hours after receiving the Azgedans into their camp, they were leaving.

It was a little bit terrifying, leaving their camp behind. Wells may have been on the Earth for a few months, but they hadn’t strayed too far from where they’d landed.

But it was also exciting. This was the dream, right? Being back on Earth. Being able to explore.

From behind the ambassador, he could see Clarke and Roan ahead of them. It looked like they were talking, getting to know each other, and Wells was hit with a bought of disappointment that Ontari hadn’t come, too, that he couldn’t be using however long this trip was to get to know the woman he was going to marry.

He leaned back a bit, adjusting his grip on the ambassador.

“Echo, right?” he asked, maybe a bit too close to her ear if the way she briefly tensed was any indication.

“Wells, right?” she echoed, and he found himself grinning.

“So where are we going, exactly?” he asked, turning his head to watch the trees go by. Horses were fast. He’d known that—he taught Earth skills for Pete’s sake—but it was different seeing it. It made him feel a little sick, but there was no way he was telling that to someone as hot as Echo. He hoped he wouldn’t puke on her. “Besides the capital, because I really don’t have any idea where that is.”

Echo laughed, and he redirected his attention to her. She pointed ahead of them, over the tops of the trees.

“See that mountain?” she asked, and he told her he did. “The top.”

“Oh,” he said. Maybe Bellamy _would_ have to marry Ontari after all, because he was definitely going to die on the journey. “Great. Fantastic.”

Echo snorted, glancing over his shoulder at him. “That was a joke,” she said, the hint of a smirk on her otherwise emotionless face. “The capital is only partway up that mountain.”

Wells let out a sigh of relief. “Hilarious,” he deadpanned, and she shrugged, returning her gaze to driving the horse.

“It’ll take about a week to get there,” she continued. “In the summer, its faster, but we already came through snow on our way. There will be more now, so we have to be careful with the horses. We’ve got a bit of mountain range to go through, so we have to keep an eye out for avalanches, ice, storms—”

“Please stop,” Wells interrupted. “I really don’t need to know all the ways I could die.”

Echo snorted again. “You should always want to know all the ways you could die,” she told him. “It will help keep you alive.”

“Yeah, no.” Wells shifted, trying to find a position where he was actually comfortable on the horse. “I’d rather be blissfully ignorant and die in a completely surprising way.”

Echo shook her head. “It’s a good thing you’re getting bodyguards, then.”

The ride wasn’t all that exciting. Wells had stopped looking at the scenery in hopes that would make him less nauseous. It started snowing about an hour in, and Roan stopped the procession not long after, yelling something back in the Grounder language.

Wells’ legs had gone numb by that point, which was great while riding the horse, but a lot less great when he had to get off the horse. Echo climbed off first, and then helped him down, and he had to hold onto the side of the horse for a minute until he could stand on his own.

“Why are we stopping?” he asked, once he wasn’t in danger of face planting into the snow and embarrassing himself.

Not that he was concentrating all that much on not embarrassing himself. His attention was instead focused on the white flakes falling from the sky. He held out a hand, watching them melt as they touched his skin. The snow was gorgeous and amazing, something out of a fairy tale. He was also pretty sure it had dropped about a hundred degrees since the flakes started falling and that he could add freezing to the top of the list of potential ways to die that Echo had so helpfully laid out for him, but the cold didn’t detract from the beauty. Yet, at least.

“You’re freezing,” Echo pointed out, which, yeah. Fair. He _was_ shivering pretty hard. She could probably feel that when they were on the horse. She was digging around in one of the bags hanging off the horse, and pulled out a bundle of fur. “Here.”

Wells caught it when it was tossed at him, slowly unfolding it. The fur was a dark grey and soft to his touch, a few large buttons on one side and…sleeves?

“It’s a jacket,” Echo supplied, once he’d been staring at it like an idiot for too long. “Put it on.”

“Oh,” Wells said. “Thanks.”

He pulled on the jacket and was already immediately warmer. It was crazy, really, how much heat the fur kept in. It hung down to his knees and past his hands, and was honestly the best thing he’d ever worn.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked Echo, whose furs were a lot thinner than Wells’ new ones.

“This is nothing,” she said, shaking her head and Wells’ brief moment of belief that he might not actually freeze to death disappeared.

“Great.”

Roan yelled something about a brief break and then disappeared into the woods, so Wells left Echo behind to make his way to Clarke.

“Well,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “How’s the fiancé?”

Clarke shoved him, her own fur jacket hanging huge on her. “Shut up,” she said, and it might have just been the cold, but Wells was pretty sure that—

“You’re _blushing_ ,” he teased, and Clarke’s face got even more red. “You _like_ him. You want to _kiss_ him. You want to _marry_ him.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Clarke insisted, shoving him again. “He’s nice.”

Wells snorted. “Just nice?” he asked. “You mean you’re _not_ completely in love with him yet? I mean, Clarke, really. Have you _seen_ his ass? _I_ might be in love with him.”

“Shut up,” Clarke spluttered again, and Wells laughed.

At least Clarke liked Roan. That was good. If she was going to marry him, it was good that she liked him.

“We’re heading out,” Roan called re-emerging from the forest.

“See you at the next break, then,” Clarke said, grinning at him.

“Try not to fall off your horse,” Wells said, and Clarke flipped him off.

Now that he wasn’t completely freezing—his legs were still cold but if he ducked down and tucked his face against the back of Echo’s neck, he could keep that warm—the whole horse riding didn’t seem so bad. Sure, he still felt kind of nauseous when he looked out, made even worse with the falling snow, but it could be worse.

The snow was falling harder and harder as they went, the ground turning white from the brief peeks Wells snuck. He was sure it was still gorgeous, but the horses were traveling too fast for him to really appreciate it.

And it was cold.

He’d lost track of time completely. All there was was the snow falling around him, the horse underneath him, and Echo, wrapped in his arms.

“Oh, _shit_.”

Wells’ head snapped up at Echo’s swear, glancing around. “What?”

Echo swore again. “Do not let go of me,” she warned, and Wells held her tighter. She yelled something in the Grounder language to the others, and then dug her heels into the horse, making it go even faster.

“What’s going on?” Wells yelled again over the wind that had suddenly picked up. He couldn’t tell if that was just because they were riding faster, or if a storm was coming in. He hoped it was just the former.

“ _Azboom_!” Echo yelled back, and the horse somehow started running faster.

“ _Azboom_?” Wells repeated, head snapping around. The nausea had disappeared, replaced with the need to figure out what was wrong, what was happening. “What does that— _oh_.”

What was happening was suddenly glaringly obvious, even with as fast as the horse was running.

It didn’t take a genius to know what _azboom_ meant with the giant wall of snow coming towards them.

“Avalanche,” he whispered, his arms tightening further around Echo. “Fuck.”

He wished he could do something, that he didn’t have to just sit there, holding onto Echo and completely helpless, but there was nothing he could do but hope.

Clarke and Roan’s horse had disappeared ahead of them, which Wells hoped meant they were out of the avalanche zone. He couldn’t see any of the other horses, either, and turned his attention back to the wall of snow.

It didn’t make sense. There was barely any snow where they were at, and yet it was all coming down from further up the mountain.

It didn’t make sense.

He thought they might be almost past, staring at the snow, almost hypnotized by it as it came down, down, down, tearing down trees in its path.

“Can we go any faster?” he yelled at Echo, who didn’t answer. 

There was a loud cracking noise, far too loud and far too close, and then a tree was crashing down in their path, barely a dozen feet in front of them, and Echo was pulling on the reigns, hard and sharp, and Wells was gripping her tighter as the horse reared up.

And then the snow was hitting them, hard, harder than something that looked so soft had any right to, and the horse was falling and Wells was falling and then everything went dark.

When Wells woke up, all he could feel was cold. Something was pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe, and he didn’t think he’d ever shivered anywhere near as hard as he was shivering now.

It was so cold.

He tried to move, but the weight on top of him was too much. He opened his eyes instead, and managed to move his hand enough to wipe the snow off his face, and tried to look down.

There was a horse on top of him, not moving, and he groaned, falling back into the snow.

“Echo?” he called, loud enough that hopefully she could hear him but not loud enough to trigger another avalanche.

“Wells? Oh, thank Heda.”

He sighed, moving his head around and looking for her. “I’m over here!”

It took a few seconds before Echo appeared in his vision, looking over him and the horse.

“Well,” she said. “Fuck.”

It took a bit of digging for Echo to get him out from under the horse, but eventually he was free. So cold that he’d stopped shivering, but free.

The horse was dead. Echo said something about it being disappointing that they couldn’t take the whole thing as she sawed off a chunk of half-frozen meat. And then they piled all the supplies onto their shoulders, because they needed supplies to survive and they didn’t have a horse anymore.

It was getting dark, and the wind was picking up again, the moon hidden behind clouds, and they started off to find somewhere to make camp for the night.

The cave was dark and a little bit terrifying, but the snow was coming down hard and the bags were heavy and Wells was numb and so, so tired.

He basically collapsed, useless again, as Echo started moving things around. He must have drifted off for a moment because the next thing he knew, there was a fire burning at the mouth of the cave, and the smell of cooking meat was drifting over to him.

He forced himself to move, forced his stiff muscles to bend work properly, and slowly made his way over to where Echo was sitting near the fire, the storm raging on outside.

“Feeling better?” she asked, and he shrugged, holding his hands out to feel the warmth.

“Not as completely frozen,” he allowed, and she nodded at him. “So what now?”

Echo didn’t say anything for a minute, focusing on pulling the meat off the fire and handing him some.

“We’re not exactly in Azgeda territory right now,” she admitted, and Wells frowned.

“What do you mean?” he asked, ignoring the meat for a minute. “We’re not in Trikru territory, are we?”

“No.” Echo paused taking a bite of her meat and chewing. “Not Trikru. _Technically_ we’re in Azgeda territory, but we’re in the part of Azgeda that’s haunted by the Faceless Men.”

Wells wasn’t sure how she could eat right now. “The _what_?” he asked, leaning forward. “What do you mean, Faceless Men?”

Echo nodded, chewing and swallowing before she continued. “You wouldn’t know,” she said. “They don’t come as far as the Skaikru camp. The Faceless Men haunt the woods in a part of Azgeda and Trikru territory. They mostly stay around Mount Weather, so no one builds close enough, but the easiest path through the mountains passes through their territory.” She tossed another stick onto the fire. “We should’ve only been in their territory for about a day on horse, but it’ll be a few days at least with us walking.”

“Great,” Wells said, finally taking a bite of his meat. The thought of eating a horse was weird—the only meat he’d really had at this point was deer and that panther Bellamy shot that one time—but he was so hungry that it barely phased him. “What do the Faceless Men do, exactly?”

Echo shrugged. “We don’t know,” she said. “They shoot at us with these arrows that put us to sleep. If we’re not able to get those who are shot out in time, they’re gone. Never to be seen again.”

Wells took another bite of meat, too hungry to be as opposed to eating as he wanted to be.

“That’s terrifying,” he told Echo, and she shrugged again, leaning back against the wall. “We’ll have to make sure we don’t run into them, then.”

Echo laughed and shook her head, and they ate their dinner in silence for a few minutes. As he ate the meat, he realized that he liked talking with Echo and he wanted to talk to her more.

There were plenty of things they _could_ talk about. He could ask her about the capital and what it would be like there. He could ask her about Ontari and find out something about the woman he was going to marry.

But none of that was what came out.

“What was the catch?” he asked instead, and Echo tilted her head. That wasn’t what he’d meant to ask, but it had been needling at the back of his mind since the meeting. “With the agreement. We both know that what Roan offered was worth way more than Clarke’s medical knowledge and whatever you can get from the rest of the Ark. And if Azgedan alliances are already supposed to be sealed in marriage, then that’s not it. It just doesn’t make sense for you. So what’s the catch?”

Echo stared at him for a minute, then sighed, poking at the fire. “I shouldn’t tell you,” she said. “But we’ll probably die before we make it back.”

“Comforting,” Wells muttered.

“The last few winters have been bad,” Echo continued, like she hadn’t even heard him. “We’ve lost a lot of people to sickness and the cold. Clarke’s medical knowledge will help with that, sure, but what we really need is more people. The fighting with Trikru hasn’t been helping. Ontari and Roan have been trying to broker an alliance on that front, too, but the queen would never agree to anything. So until someone kills her, gathering more people is all we can do.”

Wow. Okay. That was…a lot to take in.

But it made the whole alliance arrangement make more sense.

“So it’s less of an alliance and more of an absorption?” Wells extrapolated, and Echo shrugged again.

“I think that’s the ultimate goal,” she said. “But what we really need right now is more people, however we can get them.” She dropped the stick into the fire and stood up, brushing her hands off on her pants. “We should get some sleep. The storm will hopefully be gone in the morning, and we should leave at first light.”

There was a bit of shuffling as they took off their furs and made a bed. They’d have to put out the fire, Echo said, because it could spread and kill them, or it could attract the Faceless Men and then they could kill them. Echo really liked to point out the different ways Wells could die, and it was probably the cold and the exhaustion talking, but it was kind of hot.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that the fire was put out and it was instantly six hundred degrees colder—temperature wasn’t one of Wells’ majors, sue him—which meant that, for warmth, he and Echo were wrapped up in the furs and each other.

Which probably meant he shouldn’t have been thinking about how hot she was.

If he’d been any less exhausted, he would have savoured being in bed with someone. He’d shared a tent with Clarke and Bellamy for the last few months, but they’d all had their own beds. He hadn’t slept with someone, even just to share warmth like he was doing now with Echo, since before he’d found out about the flaw.

But, as it was, his exhaustion caught up to him quickly, and he was out almost as soon as his head had hit his pillow.

“My feet are cold,” Wells complained, stomping through the snow. “And I think my nose fell off.”

Echo turned around and gave him a once over before walking on again. “Your nose is still there,” she helpfully pointed out. “And if we make it back to the capital without dying, I’m sure Ontari will buy you some warmer shoes.”

“Thanks,” Wells deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “Super helpful.”

“No problem.” Echo stepped over a Fallen tree, and Wells followed, awkwardly scrambling over.

“So,” he said, because talking to her distracted him from the lack of feeling in his toes and how much his legs hurt from walking. “What’s your favourite colour?”

Echo turned to look at him again, frowning. “What?”

It was a dumb question. He knew it was. And yet he’d asked it, and he had to stick by it.

“Your favourite colour,” he repeated, scuffing his foot through the snow. “You know, like mine is—”

“Shhh!” He bumped into Echo, not realizing she’d stopped walking.

“Rude,” he said. “If you don’t have a favourite colour, you can—”

“I said shut up,” she hissed. Her hand slapped over his mouth, starting to shift her bags into his arms. “I hear something.”

He took the bags, watching as she readied her bow, and scanned the forest.

“Faceless Men,” Echo whispered, nodding towards the trees. Wells Focused in, spotting something bright yellow. “When I say so, run.”

He adjusted his stance, trying to keep his heart from exploding and from looking completely like he saw whatever this Faceless Man was.

He didn’t see the dart until it was too late to duck out of the way. He felt it pierce his neck, and pulled it out of his skin in slow motion. He could see Echo’s lips moving as she said something, but he couldn’t hear her over the ringing in his ears. His gaze shot back to the Faceless Man, watching him come out of the bushes with his gun raised. He was dressed in a bright yellow radiation suit, the face window mirrored, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was Echo’s reflection in the screen.

All he saw when he woke up was fire, the flames burning themselves into the back of his eyelids.

The ability to move returned slowly, and he flexed his fingers and toes. With that came the feeling of the cold and a splitting headache.

Once he could move enough, he groaned, sitting up.

“You’re alive,” Echo said, and he glanced over at her, and then around him. They were in a cave. It was a different cave than the one they’d been in before. At least, Wells was pretty sure it was. He still wasn’t feeling completely himself.

“What happened?” he asked, rubbing a hand against his head.

“You got shot by one of the Faceless Men,” Echo said, and he pushed his attention back onto her. “And then I killed him.”

Wells blinked at her for a moment. If he was functioning at full capacity, he’d probably be concerned over someone dying. But, as it was, he was cool with it.

“Thanks,” he said. And then he took in the blood that was all over her clothes. “Is that blood?”

“What?” Echo looked down at herself. “Yeah. It’s not mine, though.” She shifted a little, and he caught the barely there wince. “Well, most of it isn’t.”

Wells might not have been fully back in action, but he had enough of his wits back to understand what that meant and to make his way over to him. He may have had to half drag himself there, but he made it.

“What happened?” he asked her, trying to figure out what blood was hers and what wasn’t.

She shook her head and tugged up the bottom of her shirt. “Got stabbed,” she said, shrugging. “I already cauterized it, though. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I am going to worry about you,” he told her, staring at the bright pink burn on her skin like he had any real way to tell if she’d done it right. “That’s just what I do.”

Echo rolled her eyes, but he could see her smiling a little, and Wells took another minute to let the tranquilizer wear off a little more.

It was dark out. Whatever had been in that shot was strong, and he’d been out for a while. Echo had somehow managed to drag him to this cave along with all their stuff, all with a stab wound in her stomach.

Something clicked for him then, something that somehow hadn’t yet.

She’d gotten herself stabbed to save him.

No one had done anything like that for him before.

Later, once he had time to think about it, he could blame it on the lasting effects of the tranquilizer and the adrenalin of the day. He could blame it on emotions running wild, and being off in a place he didn’t know where a million things were trying to kill him.

But the only thing that was really going through his head when he kissed her was how much he wanted to.

She gasped against his lips, and he moved closer, as much as he could when he still didn’t have all his feeling. And then her hand was coming around the back of his neck, pulling her even closer, and he forgot about everything else in the world.

And then she was pushing him back again, staring at him with more emotions flying behind her eyes than he had ever seen on her.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, and he swallowed heavily.

“Thank you,” he whispered back, kissing her again, but she pushed him away quicker this time.

“This is a terrible idea,” she warned him, staring at his lips.

“I know,” he agreed, and then she was kissing him again.

Waking up the next morning, Wells was definitely much warmer than he should have been when waking up naked in a cave surrounded by snow. Not that he had much experience with waking up naked in a cave surrounded by snow.

He was almost certain it had to do with the fact that Echo was as equally naked in his arms, and the fact that it felt more right than anything else he’d done in his life.

For a moment, he let himself imagine waking up like this every morning.

Echo stirred and he tugged her closer, kissing along her neck.

“Good morning,” he whispered, and felt her relax against him.

Only to shoot out of bed a moment later.

“We need to leave,” she said, and he lay there watching her search for her clothes. “It’s already daylight, and we need to leave.”

Wells pushed up on his elbows. “Echo—”

She turned towards him, eyes wide. “This was a bad idea,” she told him, speaking slowly. “We should not have done that. You’re _engaged_ , Wells. To the fucking princess! If anyone finds out that that happened, we’re both dead.”

Wells flopped back down on the furs, dragging a hand over his face. “It won’t happen again,” he promised, no matter how much he already wanted to drag Echo back against him and kiss her until they both forgot about his fiancée and their responsibilities.

“It _can’t_ happen again,” she agreed, and then they were setting about packing up, talking about the day’s journey like nothing had happened.

And, yes, Wells knew that it shouldn’t have happened. It had been such a stupid idea to kiss her in the first place. He had a fiancée, for crying out loud. He was getting married practically the minute they arrived at the capital. Maybe it was just because he’d survived multiple life or death situations with Echo in the past few days, but he really didn’t think that was all of it.

Because there was a part of him that he couldn’t quite get to shut up, a part of him that kept pointing out that he’d never felt like this about anyone else ever.

And that was terrifying, because he wasn’t allowed to feel anything about Echo. Not when he was marrying her boss.

So he helped pack and cook breakfast so they could get back out there and take him to his wedding.

Walking in the snow was boring and cold and it sucked. It didn’t help that he’d run out of topics and couldn’t stop thinking about the way Echo felt against him and the sounds she’d made last night, couldn’t stop imagining pushing her up against a tree and kissing her until they forgot why they shouldn’t.

So he was reciting Earth skills lesson plans in his head instead, trying to find something about the winter or the snow that could be a distraction.

A clump of snow fell off a branch and hit him in the head, bringing with it a memory of an old video.

He grinned a little as he dropped their bags, kneeling down in the snow.

“Hey, Echo.”

She turned around, and he nailed her in the face with a snowball, grinning widely.

The look of shock on her face was definitely worth it. He was pretty sure that a snowball fight would get them both soaked and cold, but it would be worth it too.

But Echo didn’t throw a snowball back at him. No, she crossed the space between them as he stood back up, grabbing him by the back of the neck and dragging him down to kiss him.

He shouldn’t have kissed her back, but he was helpless to it. He lost himself in her, wrapping his arms around her, and forgot all the reasons they definitely shouldn’t be doing this again.

And then, just as suddenly as she’d kissed him, she’d stopped and he was flying over her shoulder and faceplanting in the snow.

He sat up, gasping and spluttering from the cold, and Echo laughed at him, the grin lighting up her face so brightly that all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her again.

So he did, tugging her down into the snow with him, and she kissed him back.

Echo liked to complain about how they were making terrible time, but that didn’t stop her from kissing him whenever she felt like, or from letting him push her against a tree to do a little more than kiss.

There were a lot of things that they didn’t talk about, in the days they spent travelling through the woods. They didn’t talk about Wells’ fiancée, or how he’d be getting married as soon as they made it to their destination. They didn’t talk about how they were both dead if anyone were to find out. They didn’t talk about how many laws they were breaking or how they could be screwing everything up for both of their people while they were screwing each other.

And they definitely didn’t talk about how Wells was almost positive he’d fallen in love with her.

Their days fell into a pattern.

Wake up in whatever cave they’d fallen asleep in. Have breakfast and another round or two of sex to warm them up for the day.

Try to make it a little closer to the capital. That step was hindered by both their inability to keep their hands off each other, and the persistence of the Faceless Men.

Once it started getting darker, they’d find a cave to spend the night in. They’d eat dinner and make out and make love, and then they’d fall asleep wrapped up in each other.

As much as Wells hated how cold he was all the time now, and as much as his legs felt like they were dying, there was a part of him that never wanted this trek to end.

But they didn’t talk about that.

They did, however, talk about the Faceless Men.

They just roamed the forest in their radiation suits. Echo hadn’t heard of any that showed their faces unless they were dying or dead, which made Wells think that these people, whoever they were, couldn’t survive the level of radiation on the surface. They stayed around Mount Weather, which led to the assumption that they lived in the bunker that Wells’ father had meant to send them to.

He didn’t have any guesses as to what the Faceless Men did with the people they stole—Echo’s guess was cannibalism, but she didn’t have any more of an idea than Wells—but it was definitely something he’d have to bring up to Clarke when he saw her again. There were the occasional radiation leaks and the resulting sickness on the Ark, so maybe they’d be able to come up with some sort of solution and an alliance.

But he’d have to make it the capital first before that could happen, and, as Echo loved to point out, there were a million ways he could die before getting there.

Their seventeenth day post avalanche started the same as any other.

Wells woke up with Echo in his arms, and woke her up with kisses down her neck.

“Good morning,” he whispered against her skin when she stirred, and then she was turning in his arms and they were kissing and Wells wanted nothing more than to stay in their makeshift bed together.

That couldn’t happen, though, and it wasn’t long before they’d packed up and headed on their way.

They’d left Faceless Man territory behind a few days ago, so they were both less cautious as they walked, and Echo even let him twirl her around a few times, a fond smile lighting up her face.

He wanted to tell her he loved her. He’d known her less than two weeks, but he knew in his bones that he’d never felt this way about anyone before, and never would again.

There were so many reasons why he shouldn’t, though, so he kept his mouth shut and kissed her instead.

They were taking a break from walking to make out against a tree when they heard it.

Faceless Men.

“Shit,” Echo hissed, dropping to the ground to pull out her bow and arrows. “They’re not supposed to be this far north.”

Wells pulled out the knife she’d given him after the first attack, and set about pulling all their things behind the tree so they could hide.

Echo took watch, peeking around a tree, while Wells held onto the knife and tried to remember the self defence lessons he’d taken on the Ark, and the ones Bellamy had been teaching after they found out they weren’t alone on the ground, and the pointers Echo had been giving him.

And then Echo sighed and lowered her bow and shouted out something in Grounder.

“Come out,” she told Wells, shouldering her bow and stepping around the tree. “It’s our people.”

In a second, he went from being whatever he was with Echo to being the missing fiancé of the Azgedan princess. It almost gave him whiplash how fast the Azgedan soldiers pulled him away. In minutes, he’d been loaded onto the back of a horse, Echo and their things being added to various others.

And, just as suddenly as the avalanche that had started it all had hit, it was all over.

He’d thought he had a few more days with Echo, a few more days to be selfish and do what they _wanted_ to do, not what they _had_ to. He’d wanted to make love to her again, slowly, tell her with his body everything he couldn’t say with his words.

There were so many things he wanted, but they were all ripped away in a moment.

He glanced around until he found the horse that Echo was on. She met his gaze and, for just a moment, the hard, emotionless look in her eyes was gone and replaced with the one he now knew had been just for him.

And then she was turning away, and it was gone, and he had to get ready to do what he had to for his people.

The capital was built into the side of a mountain. He supposed it would be pretty, if he wasn’t so distracted. They were dropped off at the gates, and he was left to wander in with Echo and the rest of their entourage.

He wanted to say something to her, anything that could tell her just how much the last days had meant to him, how much _she_ meant to him, but he couldn’t. There were too many people around, for one, and, for another, it would probably be easier for the both of them if he didn’t make it any more complicated than it had to be.

The giant, white, furry monster that was waiting just inside the gates definitely helped as a distraction.

“What the hell is _that_?” he hissed to Echo, trying to figure out why no one else seemed concerned. There were children climbing on it, like they didn’t expect to get eaten.

“What?” Echo asked him, then followed his gaze. “Oh. You mean George? He’s the baker.”

Wells stared at her open mouthed for a moment. “That’s a fucking abominable snowman,” he said, because he couldn’t figure out why she didn’t understand. No one had said anything about snow monsters. As far as Wells knew, they weren’t even supposed to exist.

“They prefer Yeti,” Echo corrected, like it wasn’t a big deal.

_“What?”_

“You should try his cinnamon buns,” she suggested, and started walking again so he had no choice but to follow. “They’re to die for.”

Wells still had about a million questions, his head turned to stare at the Yeti as he followed the group he was in towards the palace. A few other Yetis popped up at the edges of their procession, and he knew he was probably being rude, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring at every one they passed.

He was so distracted that he didn’t even realize they’d reached the steps of the palace until a body was crashing into his.

“I thought you were dead,” Clarke whispered into his neck, clinging to him.

He clung back just as tightly, breathing her in. There was a part of him that he’d been ignoring that had been terrified that she hadn’t made it out of that avalanche.

But here she was, alive and well.

“I’m not dead,” he assured her, burying his face in her hair. “Even though according to Echo there were a million things that could have killed us.”

Clarke laughed a little, and then pulled back, staring at him with a watery grin.

“You look like shit,” she told him, and he laughed too.

“I wish I could say the same,” he said, shaking his head as he took her in. She was dressed in furs and gold, a ring of bones sitting on top of her head. “You look good.”

Clarke shrugged, reaching up to wipe at the tears under her eyes, the light catching on the ring on her finger.

“You missed my wedding,” she said. “I tried to wait for you as long as I could, but a lot has happened.”

He stared at her hand for a moment, smiling at the ring a little sadly. “Congratulations,” he told her, meaning it. “Roan seemed great.”

Clarke smiled back. “He is,” she agreed. “Ontari’s not so bad either.”

Something sunk in his gut at the sound of his fiancée’s name, the name of the woman he’d spent almost three weeks pretending didn’t exist.

“I’d love to keep playing catchup, but we have schedules to keep,” Roan said, suddenly appearing behind Clarke. He folded his arm over her shoulders and Clarke leaned back in his hold almost instinctively.

A part of Wells hoped that he could have that same reaction to Ontari after only a few weeks, but he doubted it. He doubted he’d be able to have that reaction to anyone other than Echo any time soon. He could feel her eyes on him from behind, but resisted the urge to turn and look, to indulge himself in what he wanted.

“What schedule?” he asked instead, focusing instead on his almost brother-in-law.

“Your wedding schedule,” Roan said, like it should have been obvious. And maybe it should have been, but it didn’t stop another rock from adding to the pile in his gut. “You’ve kept my sister waiting long enough. You’ll marry her tonight. Let’s get going.”

He followed Roan into the palace to whatever quarters had been set up for him. Clarke had duties elsewhere, apparently, but Roan and a half dozen attendants let themselves into the bathroom with Wells. The almost husband of the princess didn’t bathe himself, apparently, and Wells wasn’t sure he was ever going to adjust to having so many men watch him in the bathtub.

As he was bathed and shaved, Roan filled him in on everything he’d missed.

The rest of the convoy had made it back within a few days of each other, and had been in the capital for a little under two weeks now. They’d held off on Clarke and Roan’s wedding a few days, but ultimately couldn’t wait anymore.

Because they’d thrown a coup. In the weeks he’d been lost in the woods, his fiancée and her brother had killed their mother.

From everything Echo had told him about Queen Nia, it wouldn’t be a loss, but it was still a shocking thing to be told on your wedding day. 

Just as shocking as it was to learn that he was no longer marrying a princess but a queen. Though that shouldn’t have been shocking, as Echo had already told him that Azgeda was matriarchal.

He tried to listen to Roan about what he was supposed to do at his wedding, but he couldn’t concentrate on the words. All he could think about was where Echo was. Had anyone told her about Nia? Was anyone with her right now? Did she have anyone she could go to? Or did she have too many duties to be able to go somewhere and pretend he wasn’t about to get married?

Did she even care?

He was still distracted when he was pulled from the tub, when he was dried and oiled up with something that smelled too good. His mind was still off as he and Roan were dressed in fancy looking leather clothes, with a plethora of bone accessories and face paint. Roan got a crown, too, but he didn’t. Not yet, anyway.

He didn’t realize he was following Roan into his wedding itself until they were already entering the room. His eyes caught on Clarke first, standing in the front row. She’d changed clothes, too, and was dressed in a flowing dark blue gown with a fur wrap. Her face was painted, too, and her small bone crown had been replaced with a larger one.

Clarke smiled at him when he caught her eye. It was a reassuring smile, a smile that said _you got this._ Roan joined her after leaving him at the altar, and Clarke broke eye contact to kiss him.

Wells couldn’t look at them anymore, scanning the crowd gathered for his wedding. He told himself that he wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but he knew that was a lie before he even saw her.

Because he did see her, sitting a few rows back. Echo had cleaned up and changed, too, and he found himself missing the wild look she’d had after weeks in the woods.

His eyes met hers the moment he found her, and he suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe. An irrational part of him wanted to run. He wanted to leave the altar and sweep her off her feet and run back into the woods.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t abandon his people, and trying anything would just get the both of them killed and then Bellamy would have to come marry Ontari instead, and that wouldn’t be fair to him.

So all he could do was stare at Echo, trying to tell her with his eyes everything he couldn’t say.

He only noticed Ontari’s entrance because everyone in the edges of his vision were turning. His bride was coming down the aisle, but he couldn’t look away from another woman.

Echo broke their stare first, closing her eyes and swallowing heavily before turning to watch her queen. Wells forced his gaze away from, forced himself to take his first look at the woman he was about to marry.

She was pretty, dressed in a flowing dress of a blue so light it was almost white, looking like the ice outside. Her crown was made of bones and jewels, and her face was painted up like the rest of them. She smiled at him as she approached, and he forced one he didn’t feel onto his face.

Marrying Ontari for his people was what made sense. He kept repeating it like a mantra. Marry Ontari and he’d secure safety and living through the winter for his people.

But, as he watched the woman he was about to marry come closer and closer, all he could think about was how much he wished it was someone else.

Married life was nice. Ontari was nice and the people of Azgeda were nice and everything was nice.

He hadn’t seen Echo since that glimpse at his wedding, but he had Clarke now.

In a drunken haze in his and Ontari’s bedroom a few nights after his wedding, when Ontari and Roan had been out late on important royalty business or something, he’d told Clarke. He’d told her about everything that had happened in the forest and how he’d fallen in love with Echo and how he didn’t know how he was supposed to get over her.

She’d been sympathetic, and had agreed to keep his secret. She didn’t have any advice, though, besides making sure his wife didn’t find out. Ontari was nice enough on the regular, but Clarke had been in the room when she’d killed her own mother. Clarke didn’t think there was any hope that Ontari would be as understanding.

In turn, Clarke had gushed about Roan. There was no way she’d have said anywhere near as much as she had if they weren’t both wasted, but Wells had revelled in the distraction from his own feelings and had taken the opportunity to tease her until her face was so red and hot that they probably could have cooked an egg on it.

Their spouses had returned to find them laughing on the floor. Roan had fondly shook his head and picked up a still giggling Clarke over his shoulder to carry her back to her room, and, as drunk as he was, Wells could still recognize the love that was spilling from his brother-in-law’s eyes.

He was equal parts jealous and whistful, wishing he could have had that kind of instant connection with Ontari.

Instead, he followed his wife into bed, where they lay on opposite sides and drifted off to sleep in silence.

Even Clarke couldn’t last. Two weeks after Wells had gotten married, his best friend, her husband, and a group of Azgeda guards were heading out, leaving for the village the rest of Skaikru was already living in.

He knew why he was staying. His wife was the queen, and it wasn’t like they could send both her and her brother to live in some obscure Azgedan village.

But he was going to be alone. He was going to be the only Skaikru left in the capital.

And that was a little bit terrifying.

There was also the fact that, aside from the seventeen days he’d spent in the woods with Echo, he’d never spent more than a day or two at a time away from Clarke. They’d been best friends practically since birth, and had been through everything together.

And now he was going to be alone.

He stared blankly down at the horses that were being readied for the journey, watched Clarke and Roan joke and flirt like they’d known each other much longer than they had. Like they were in love.

He was happy for her. Of course he was. There was nothing he could have wanted more for Clarke than for her to be able to love the man she was married to.

But that stupid bit of jealousy just wouldn’t go away.

“Hey.”

His eyes snapped over to Echo, his breath catching in his throat. He still hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her since the wedding, but now she was here beside him. She was dressed in a thicker looking version of what she’d worn when they first met, and that should have meant something, but he couldn’t make his brain work, couldn’t make anything work, as he just stood there staring at her like an idiot, trying not to tell her he loved her.

She seemed to have a similar problem, just staring back at him for a few minutes. He wanted to kiss her, but just enough of his brain was working to remind him that that would be a terrible idea.

She broke her gaze away first, staring out over the horses.

“I’m leaving,” she told him, and it was like a knife to his heart. “I can’t stay here and have to see you married to her, so I’m going to the village.”

It made sense. It was the logical decision, the one that would stop him from searching for her around every corner, the one that would most easily keep their secret from getting out.

It made sense.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He wanted to kiss her goodbye, to be able to hold her one last time, but he couldn’t. He was pretty sure if he so much as hugged her, he’d break and do everything he wasn’t supposed to be doing. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her as it was, even as she couldn’t look at him.

“I’ll miss you,” he whispered, knowing it meant so much more than that.

Her eyes closed and she swallowed. “I’ll miss you too,” she whispered back, and he knew everything else that those words meant.

She left, heading down towards the horses, and then Clarke was in front of him, hugging him, and he could pretend that all the tears he was shedding were for her and no one else. He hugged her back tightly, making promises of visits both ways that he wasn’t sure when they’d be able to uphold.

He hugged Roan, too, slapping each other on the back, because as much as he’d married Roan’s sister, Roan had married his, too.

“If anything happens to her,” he warned, and Roan nodded at him.

“I’d never let anything happen,” he promised, and Roan nodded back.

Ontari had appeared at some point, and stood on the steps beside him as they watched the others mount their horses and start down the street out of town. He could see George the Yeti further down the street, taller than most of the buildings. Echo had been right. His cinnamon buns _were_ to die for.

He watched her back now, equal parts of him wishing that she’d turn around so he could see her one last time and wishing that she wouldn’t because he didn’t know if he’d be able to handle it.

When Ontari suggested they head back inside, after her brother and his sister and _Echo_ had disappeared from view, he followed her in. Because she was his wife, and he was her husband, and he owed it to her to try.

He owed it to her to try to love her the way she deserved to be loved.

Even though the thought of loving someone else hurt more than anything.

He owed it to his wife to try.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to dedicate George the baking Yeti to thelittlefanpire
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I don't want to make any promises because I have so far fulfilled exactly zero of my Chopped sequel promises, but I do have ideas for like two sequels
> 
> Comments and kudos give me life!


End file.
